Roll Up Your Green Sleeves
by ZootyCutie
Summary: A house with fifteen members in it shouldn't be too hard to clean...right?


The idea for this story actually came to me while I was cleaning my own room, to tell you the truth! It's just a little idea that I had, mainly because I wanted to test out my own personality ideas for The Felt. All characters belong to Andrew Hussie. Enjoy!

* * *

The Felt Manor sticks out like a sore thumb in Midnight City. Maybe for its size, maybe for its fanciness…but the main reason is probably because it's the only bright green building in the entire city. Located in the richest district, the Manor is home to the finer things in life. The best clothes (courtesy of Stitch), the best food (when you're loaded, why settle for just takeout and fast food?), and the best appearance to take care of. Despite being the highest scale building in the area, despite the fact that there are fifteen patrons living in it, and despite the fact that they could obviously afford one…The Felt lacked servants of any kind. Even the high life meant getting their hands dirty. In this particular case, it had nothing to do with their lifestyles of crime…

* * *

It was the end of the month. All members of The Felt, from little Clover to the juggernaut Cans, were crammed in the rec room, which was now being used as a makeshift meeting room. The gang were huddled around the table stickball table, with Crowbar at one of the ends, all attention turned to him. He was holding a small stack of papers with him.

"As you all know," He began. "It's the end of the month. And, seeing as we are technically the owners of the manor, in the loosest sense of the term, it is our duty to maintain it."

"Cut to the chase, Crowbar." Itchy dryly said, one of his arms propping up his head from the table, while the other one had a pointed finger swirling in a clockwise direction.

"What I'm saying, is that today is cleaning day." Crowbar stated, only to be met with disapproving groans and complaints throughout the room.

"I STILL don't see why we cash in and just hire a freakin' maid." Trace said, slouching slightly in his seat. "We've got the cash; we've got the space-"

"We'd get a cute girl to live with us!" Fin chimed in, as the two of them shared a snicker.

"I've said this before, you two." Crowbar said, squeezing where the bridge of his nose should be as he shut his eyes in frustration. "Better safe than sorry. Who knows who may have gotten friendly with the Midnight Crew lately in this town? Anyways, here's the list of jobs I've assigned you."

He passed out the lists to the members, as they poured through them:

ITCHY – Bathrooms

DOZE – Windows

TRACE AND FIN – Lawn work

CLOVER – Attic

DIE – Basement

CROWBAR – Garbage

SNOWMAN – Bedrooms

STITCH – Laundry

SAWBUCK – Floors/Dusting

MATCHSTICKS – Chimney

EGGS AND BISCUITS – Kitchen

QUARTERS – Gutters

CANS – Garage/Wash car

"Oh, that is NOT fair!" Itchy suddenly screamed, slamming down his hands (and the list) onto the table. "You saddled me with the worst job on the list! Give me bedrooms! That's easier!"

"Itchy, you should be glad I gave you bathrooms." Crowbar said. "There's only three in the entire manor."

"And they're all freaking master bathrooms!" Itchy angrily added. "Why do we need a separate shower AND a stupid Jacuzzi bath in all of them?!"

"Hey, some of us use those!" Sawbuck suddenly interjected. "We all can't take five minute showers and claim to be clean!"

"Oh, well excuse me!" Itchy said, leaping up to glare at Sawbuck. "Did I offend your feelings, Mr. 'I take a two hour bubble bath every night while everyone else is forced to for the bathroom to be useable'?!"

"Itchy, shut up." Crowbar angrily said, pointing his crowbar at him. "Oh, and to answer your second question, as to why you didn't get bedroom duty, to be frank, I don't trust you being in the vicinity of anyone's rooms when they're not in them."

"Fine." Itchy huffily said, slinking down into his chair.

"Oh, and another thing," Crowbar added. "I don't want you guys to use your powers to make the job easier. So, Itchy, no super speed. Don't want you to end up scrubbing so hard you break the porcelain. Die, no going to an alternate dimension where all of us are dead, so you won't have to worry about cleaning up after us. Eggs…I don't even want to think what would happen if multiple versions of you and Biscuits ended up in the kitchen in the same time. Clover, Quarters, no using those quarters to skimp out on your job or trade jobs with others. Any questions? No? Then break. Go do what you have to do. Meeting dismissed!"

* * *

Within a few minutes, well-tailored suits, polished shoes, and fancy hats were replaced with old grungy t-shirts, sloppy shorts, old gym socks, and color-coordinated bandanas tied around the head. The gangsters headed to their respective places in the house, and got to work. Trace and Fin were currently trying to start up the lawnmower to trim the (perfectly, of course) green lawn. No matter how many times they revved it, the engine merely sputtered.

"Stupid thing." Fin angrily said, kicking it. Suddenly, the machine came to life and started to move…very quickly, while Fin was holding onto the handle of it. "TRACE, A LITTLE HELP HERE?! I CAN'T CONTROL THIS THING!"

"You'll get used to it!" Trace called, trying to mask a grin, as Fin scrambled to run at the pace of the out of control lawnmower. He then turned towards the hedges that graced the edges of the manor. "Now, how even are these things supposed to be? How tall? Eh, I'll just wing it."

As Trace haphazardly cut the bushes in random places, a goopy blob suddenly hit his head.

"What the-?!" He exclaimed, suddenly dropping the clippers and putting a hand towards his head. Pulling back, he found a disgusting mixture of wet, rotted leaves, mud, and gunk from who-knows-what. He glared up to where the offending mixture came from, and saw Quarters on the roof, wearing a pair of rubber gloves that were crusted with the same substance.

"Sorry about that!" He apologetically called out. "I was aiming for the ground!

As soon as Trace rolled his eyes and continued to his work, Quarters turned towards the chimney, which Matchsticks was currently using a chimney brush on to clean it out. He was covered in soot in various patches.

"Told you I could hit him." Quarters smugly smiled. "You owe me a fiver now."

"Whatever. " Matchsticks said, lightly tapping Quarters with the brush, leaving a black mark on the back of his head.

* * *

"He had to do this on purpose, I know it."

Snowman was currently trudging through Itchy's room, which seemed to be messed up just for the occasion. She had gotten Doze's room (which was relatively neat) and her own room (which she knew every nook and cranny of, of course) finished, bags of laundry and bags of garbage set outside for Stitch and Crowbar to take away. Itchy's room, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. Piles of clothes were strewn everywhere (even though the hamper was merely a few feet away from many of them). The carpets were stained with what she hoped was just coffee. Scrapes of food of every kind from who knows when littered the entire area. Suddenly, a small smile came to Snowman's face as an idea hatched in her mind.

"I bet each of these things are supposed to be in a specific place in his own mind…why don't I just…organize a little…"

* * *

"THIS. IS. STUPID."

Itchy was now on his hands and knees, scrubbing the tub in one of the bathrooms. He had only gotten around to the first one, the one closest to his own room, so the one he frequented the most. As of now, the toilet was the only thing cleaned, and the Jacuzzi seemed bigger and bigger with every swipe of his sponge.

"Stupid Sawbuck. He's a pompous and prissy ass, and yet he always comes up smelling like roses! Literally!"

In anger, he threw his sponge at the toiletries that graced the edge of the tub, making a bottle slide down into it. He picked it up, as a malicious grin graced him. In his hand was a container of bubble bath…the same kind that Sawbuck was the only one to use. By the looks of it, the opaque container was already used a little bit, meaning it would be easy to tamper with. Itchy then went with his ultimate idea. He switched on his time ability, boosting himself to rocketing speeds, and dumped a little bit more of the soap into the sink, lowering its contents further. He then placed the bottle on the counter, and zipped towards the kitchen…

* * *

…Where Eggs and Biscuits were currently digging through the fridge. Eggs randomly pulled out objects from the fridge and pantry. Rotten eggs, a moldy container of who-knows-what-it-was, an old and smelly bottle of olive oil that didn't get used up that much (which suddenly disappeared into thin air accompanied by a green-and-yellow blur), among many things. While he dug through, Biscuits randomly made a sandwich with some things he could find.

"It's sort of sad…" Eggs said to his friend, who looked up from his food. "All this yummy food…everyone let it all go to waste…now it has to get a funeral for being a bit old…"

"Yeah." Biscuits said, taking another bite and talking with his mouth full. "A shame."

"…Where did you get the fillings for that sandwich?" Eggs asked, a little concerned. "The only bread, bologna, and mayo I've seen today were the ones I cleared out of the fridge…"

A few moments later, Biscuits turned a deeper shade of green, and a loud retching noise filled the manor.

"That…answers my question…" Eggs weakly said, as both him and his (now worse for the wear) friend were now wearing the contents of the sandwich, among other foods from the past that didn't look like foods at all at this point.

* * *

"That wasn't so hard! I don't see why the others were complaining!"

Clover had the luck of having not much to move in the attic. He also had the luck of discovering some new things as well.

"Now time to look at my treasures!"

He pulled a small box towards him and sat down on it. A small stack of old photo albums was next to him. He picked up the top one, cracked it open, and a grin cracked open as well.

"These are brilliant!" He giggled to himself as if he was reading a comic book. Strewn throughout the books were pictures of The Felt from older days, before they left their home planets. More importantly, they were BABY pictures of The Felt before they left their home planets. From pictures of messy feedings to naked baby bottoms, it was a gold mine of embarrassing blackmail. Except for the baby pictures of Clover. His were all adorable and perfect. What luck, isn't it?

* * *

Die, on the other hand, felt like he was having the worse luck. The basement was never finished, leading to boxes of holiday decorations strewn in random places, old exercise equipment that looked like it hadn't been touched in years, and a tangled mess of cords and wires dangling from the ceiling.

"I'm sure Crowbar did this on purpose." He spoke, not only to himself, but to his voodoo doll (which also had a small scrap of fabric tied to its head for a makeshift bandana). "He wants me to live up to my name and become a little snack for the spiders that live in here! If only he hadn't confiscated my pins, then he'd know what it would be like!"

A small spider dangled on a string in front of him. Out of fear, he grabbed a broom and tried whacking the arachnid away, only to step in one of the boxes and fall flat on his face.

"I'm okay, if anyone is there to hear it…" He called out. He could swear he heard that spider laugh at him.

* * *

"I don't think I've worked this hard in my life!"

As Sawbuck wiped his brow from sweat, Doze worked on polishing the glass of the window in front of him.

"I'll need to take a longer bath tonight just to get rid of all this dust and sweat on me!"

When he realized Doze wasn't paying much attention to him, he merely left the hallway, his rag that he was scrubbing the hardwood floors with clutched tightly in his hand. Finally Doze stopped wiping the window, which was now sparkling, and looked at it.

"There we go." He said to himself, smiling a little. "That's one window down…how many are in this mansion, anyways…?"

* * *

"So, I think if we just keep this schedule of cleaning every month, we'll keep the place looking better and make living a lot easier."

"That's thinkin' like a leader, Crowbar."

Crowbar and Stitch were currently walking the halls, hoisting up bags of laundry and garbage on their shoulders as they passed the bedrooms.

"That's the way I like it." Crowbar said, as he grabbed another bag. "Nice and tidy, no room for error."

Later that night, there would be fewer clothes left in the manor and the washing machine would break from having random garbage stuffed in it for a cycle.

* * *

"I think that counts as clean!"

Cans had finished his jobs involving the car and the garage. Of course, the garage door was now ripped off its hinges now, a few boxes of tools could now never be used…and let's not get started on the fact that the car somehow was missing two tires, all the windows were cracked, and the alarm was currently going on. But hey, it was sparkling, so that counts as being clean, right?

* * *

That night was one that no one would forget. After a skimpy dinner thanks to a lack of food in the house (though with plenty to spare, as Biscuits wouldn't touch a thing that night), The Felt decided to retire for the night. Thanks to all of them being caked in filth of various kinds, it was straight to the showers and baths. Which meant there was going to be a few lines. Itchy quickly used his super speed to get into the bathroom first and take his quick five minute shower. Despite the fact he had to search for a pair of pajamas, due to the fact that his old pair was now in the landfill, he managed to get changed and in bed soon enough to hear a very satisfying scream as soon as he turned out his light:

"ITCHY, WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

Sure, it meant that Itchy was going to have to clean that bathtub out again tomorrow, this time from a mixture of expired olive oil and rose-scented bubble bath, but it was all worth it in the end.

And Crowbar is starting to consider that maid idea.

THE END.


End file.
